After an hour of, "PLEASE put your shoes on!" and "Does anyone else smell poop? Who just pooped? Charlie, come let me sniff your butt." and "No, you can't have gummy bears for breakfast. Please stop whining." and "Ella just threw up down my back didn't she?" we were finally ready for our trip to Walmart.
(an actual back puke photo...one of many)
After hauling the whole crew to Walmart I discovered that whoever designed shopping carts did not think about shopping with a 5 year old, a 1 year old, and a newborn. The five year old rode standing on the front of the cart (you know, the way all of the signs and warning labels on the cart tell you not to let your kid ride? Yeah, THAT way). Charlie rode in the kid seat, and Ella's infant carrier went down in the cart itself...but after loading the cart full of children I realized I didn't have any cart space left! There is only enough cart space for a half gallon of milk and a roll of toilet paper...thus defeating the entire purpose of coming to the store. I briefly considered being this lady...
But then I changed my mind.
After that waste of a trip, I decided I deserved a pick-me-up. After all, we were all already out and dressed and still relatively clean! Time for a trip to Starbucks!
I pulled into Starbucks only to discover that the drive thru line was horrendous!
(not actual photo)
Well, we'd come this far, may as well park and go in. I stepped through the door with a baby on one hip and an infant in a carrier (which somehow takes a 10 pound baby and makes it feel like 40 pounds) and a five year old begging non-stop for chocolate milk. I can't say for sure, but at this point I imagine I looked pretty haggard. As we stood in line I noticed a woman staring at us. I figured she was staring at my hair, which at this point looked like I'd brushed it with a Weed-Eater. Or maybe she was trying to figure out where that poopie smell was wafting from. Or maybe she was sitting there feeling grateful she didn't own a single shirt with spit-up stains. Feeling her eyes on me I looked at her and shrugged as I smiled and said, "I know, we're a mess!"
She smiled the saddest smile and said, "But you have such a beautiful mess." Suddenly I realized she hadn't been staring at us thinking what a train wreck we were. She was staring because I was with three beautiful kids that I adore who, by God's grace, love me too. I could plainly see the longing in her eyes. She would have gladly traded her perfectly coiffed hair, and her unstained shirt, and her quiet cup of coffee for my mess. My loud, crazy, probably poopie, whiny, crumb covered, lovable mess.
So on the "biscuit" days, when I have chewed up vanilla wafers wiped on my jeans and 3 day old milk puddled in the bottom of my purse, and kids crawling all over me as I try to work...
I remember that somewhere out there there are people who would gladly trade everything they have for this "mess." Somewhere there is a woman crying on her bathroom floor because she doesn't have any kids, and here I sit having just tucked in a five year old boy who tells me I am his "favorite lady in the world!" I have amazing parents who, at 60, are diving back into the crazy world of sleepless nights and toddler parenting. I have a church family (and I do mean FAMILY) that constantly surrounds us with love and support (and clothes...and baby wipes...).
Ecclesiastes says "For everything there is a season." This season is big, and messy, and beautiful.
